Molly
by Cailin na hEireann
Summary: Another excerpt from the Personal Blog of Dr. John H. Watson. Can be seen as a follow-on from Miles to Go Before I sleep, though it's not necessary to have read that one first.


_**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.**_

**The Personal Blog of **

**Dr. John H. Watson**

_**04 May**_

**Sherlock Holmes Did Something Nice For Someone! (And yes, the exclamation marks **_**are **_**very much ****necessary, Sherlock)**

People of London, be warned. My insane flatmate may be turning soft.

This happened yesterday night, at a birthday party for Detective Inspector Lestrade, who's a good man and has been putting up with Sherlock for years longer than I have, which I think says it all really. The party was held at a posh hotel in central London, thanks to an anonymous benefactor who covered all the expenses ( although I have a pretty clear idea of who it was, actually, but I don't think he'd like his name being revealed, so I won't say it).

It seemed like half of Scotland Yard turned up, and a few others Lestrade invited, including myself, Sherlock, and a handful of people from St Bart's hospital. I didn't really expect Sherlock to accept the invitation, but I suppose he felt obligated, for the aforementioned reason that Lestrade has known him for going on six years now, and still manages to stand his company on an almost weekly basis.

So, the actual party was a hit. The hotel was brilliant, the food was excellent, and everyone was having a great time. And by having a great time, I mean getting really, _really _drunk.

I've never seen Sherlock drink much, aside from one or two glasses of wine when out at restaurants and the like. Yesterday was no exception. He took one glass of champagne and that was it, the whole night. Most of the party he spent lurking in a corner, glowering at everyone and fending off numerous advances and offers to buy him drink. Hilariously, quite a few of Scotland Yard's esteemed female officers took a sudden shine to Sherlock, and indeed, several male officers as well. Some were alarmingly persistent, but Sherlock defended himself well. One poor young woman ended up with a glass of Bordeaux flung in her face.

Anyway. At some time around midnight, the tables were cleared and dancing commenced. There was a full band and everything, and people could give requests if they wanted to. Within minutes the dance floor was full up.

Naturally, of course, most of what went on on that dance floor couldn't really be called _dancing, _but everyone had a good laugh and the music was brilliant, so it didn't matter much.

Sherlock didn't dance at all during this time, as far as I'm aware. He just kind of stood there with this disapproving look on his face, like he was disappointed with humanity and everything that entails, including the urge to dance when sloshed.

I danced with a few people whenever a good song came on, and took a minute between each dance to wander around and chat to the people I knew, and some people I didn't know. I was pretty tipsy myself by this stage, inebriated enough to ignore Sherlock's disapproving tuts every time I passed within earshot.

(Okay, here comes the good part, ladies and gentlemen. Hold on to your seats, lest you fall off them in shock)

Nearing the end of the night, when about half of the dancers had abandoned their attempts and had adjourned to the drinks bar, 'Just the Way You Look Tonight' came on. This prompted a lot of squealing from the women, and a surprising amount from the men, too.

I was sitting at a table, finishing off my glass of champagne, when the song began.

There was this woman sitting at a table a bit down from where I was. Both Sherlock and I know her quite well, as she works in St Bart's. She's really quite lovely, and has always had a bit of a thing for Sherlock, though he's hardly given her any reason to.

Anyway, a forensic scientist called Anderson (I don't think he deserves to remain anonymous in this case) was standing near her. The woman Sherlock and I know was sitting there by herself, glancing at Anderson to see if he would ask her to dance. Eventually, Lestrade took this out of her hands by approaching Anderson and hinting that he should dance with her.

To which Anderson (absolutely plastered by this time) responded rudely that he would rather dance with another woman there, and walked away.

Obviously, I was pretty shocked by this. Anderson is a right bastard sometimes. I got up out of my seat and was about to head over and tell him this when I caught a glimpse of Sherlock finally emerging from his shadowy little place in the corner. He didn't look particularly angry, but then again, Sherlock never looks anything in particular.

The crowd of people kind of parted in front of him, and he made his way towards the crestfallen girl. She didn't even notice him coming over, which just shows how upset she was (because seriously, when he's in the vicinity her eyes never leave him).

AND THEN:

_Sherlock Holmes_ asked her to dance, out of his own free will.

I know, boys and girls, I know. The world is becoming a very strange place.

Well, I suppose Sherlock didn't really ask her, he just grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her around until they found a spot on the dance floor. But she looked pretty happy all the same.

He's a surprisingly good dancer, actually. So is she. They were the best dancers there. They talked a bit too, though I never caught what they were saying. She laughed a few times, but still seemed a tad nervous to be the focus of all his attention, even if it was just for a minute or two.

After the song was over the dance ended, she went back to her table, and Sherlock retreated to his little corner and solitary glass of champagne.

You can imagine my surprise at all this. I was about to ask Sherlock what the hell he'd decided to do that for, when I suddenly noticed something.

No one else in the room had even seen this miraculous spectacle. They were too busy dancing or drinking or chatting to each other to see, for one time only, that the great Sherlock Holmes isn't nearly as heartless as everyone thinks he is.

I think I'm beginning to understand why Sherlock says most people are blind. They see a lot, but they don't see the important things.

Well, it's time for bed. I'm going to have a killer hangover in the morning, but for some reason I think I'll enjoy it when it comes. It's bound to be the least painful experience Sherlock has planned for me tomorrow, after spoiling his standoffish reputation in this post.

**5 comments**

John. The only part of this ridiculous fabrication that was in any way true was your correct assumption of the fate I have planned for you. Expect body parts in the jam and other fun surprises. You have brought this upon yourself.

**Sherlock Holmes - 04 May 14:43**

Thanks for the warning. I'm going to go hide the jam now! J

**John Watson - 04 May 14:50**

Good luck with that.

**Sherlock Holmes - 04 May 14:51**

God damn you two are so cute! You're like an old married couple! Also, congratulations Sherlock! You're finally becoming a member of the human race! :D

**Harry Watson - 04 May 15:11**

Harry, these comments about me and Sherlock are getting way out of hand, and I know you're only doing it to annoy me. Pick up your phone.

Also, that was a really mean thing to say to Sherlock. Also, he says for me to tell you that you should expand your writing techniques beyond using exclamation marks. Also, you are a moron.

**John Watson - 04 May 15:26**


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